


The Martin’s Story

by CakeIvy



Category: The Greatest Showman (2017)
Genre: Albinism, Circus, Emotional Hurt, F/M, Fire, Fluff, Light Angst, New Family, POV Third Person, Protective Siblings, Twins
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-26
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2019-03-09 17:07:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13485972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CakeIvy/pseuds/CakeIvy
Summary: The albino twins point of view in The Greatest Showman.





	1. Prologue

Phineas Taylor Barnum would always quote inspirational words. It’s who he was and he’d never change his perspective on it all. On the entire world, for that matter. People could believe that if an obstacle stood in someone’s way of hope, they needed to stop and consider the possibilities. Not Phineas. Phineas disregarded any barrier and broke those who wished to break him.

Mr. Barnum was called many names in relation to his ancestry; brainless, troublesome, insulting, an attention seeker, and a deplorable tailor. Yet, none of these titles were proven true. He was loyal and kind, eager to properly equalize the maltreated and rejected. Phineas took in several orphaned townspeople and lent them each a new life. A new life evolving into a dependent family and soon, a circus. _The Barnum and Bailey Circus._

Charles Sherwood Stratton, nicknamed Commander Tom Thumb, became Barnum’s first cirque companion. Then, it continued at a rapid pace.

Lettie Lutz, George Costentenus, Chang and Eng Bunker, Fedor Jeftichew, Anne and W.D. Wheeler, Hugh Murphy, and finally us. The ‘Long Haired Albino Twins of Barnum’s Bizarre Bazaar.’ My name was Florence Martin and I occupied my frail sister, Mary, for quite some time. We didn’t possess property and merely hid in the foul alleyways, praying that one day our parents could accept us. They never came back and instead, a stranger did. 

_Ladies and gents, this is the moment you’ve waited for._

He fathered children and stood by his loving wife. He was ready to risk every little thing for a celebration of humanity. 

_Been searching in the dark, your sweat soaking through the floor._

His mother and father died in the hands of a sickness’ morbid trickery. 

_And buried in your bones there’s an ache that you can’t ignore._

Although his parents passed on, Phineas Barnum had to wait until the day he was defeated too. “Whatever you do, do it with all your might.” The man once said. “Work at it, early and late, in season and out of season, not leaving a stone unturned, and never deferring for a single hour that which can be done just as well now.”

_Taking your breath, stealing your mind._

_And all that was real is left behind._

Kaleidoscopic colors filled the enormous pinstriped carnival tent and lit the fresh grounds surrounding it. Elephants and stallions robed in pure gold trotted out from the darkness and trailed behind a dazzling mist that eventually burst in odd directions and revealed various exotic performers striding within the euphonious beat. P.T. Barnum raised his ebony cane high and sprinted past the cloudy mass, aligning in the meridian of ivory horses. 

“Don’t fight it, it’s coming for you, running at ya. It's only this moment, don't care what comes after. Your fever dream, can't you see it getting closer. Just surrender 'cause you feel the feeling taking over.”

The costumed animals slowed and the ringmaster ran towards the astonished crowds. “It's fire, it's freedom, it's flooding open. It's a preacher in the pulpit and you'll find devotion. There's something breaking at the brick of every wall it's holding. All that you know, so tell me-”

Every light flickered to darkness and brightened back up straightaway. Fire eaters shot flames from ablaze rods just when Barnum resumed the prominent song. “-do you wanna go? Where it's covered in all the colored lights. Where the runaways are running the night. Impossible comes true, it's taking over you.”

W.D. lept off Hugh’s shoulders and landed on a thin wooden balancing beam– his sister Anne standing on the opposite side. She twirled in midair and peered at the entertained crowds. “This is the greatest show!”

“We light it up, we won't come down. And the sun can't stop us now. Watching it come true, it's taking over you  
Oh, this is the greatest show!” Phineas chanted and held his intricate black and gold top hat to an elephant’s trunk. The proboscis enveloped the hat and slowly rose to the trapeze artistes. 

“It’s everything you ever want, it’s everything you ever need.”

Anne snatched the hat and tossed it downwards. 

“And it’s here right in front of you, this is where you wanna be.”

Hugh caught it next and lowered it to Fedor. 

“It’s everything you ever want, it’s everything you ever need. 

Daniel seized the hat before the dog boy could run with it and threw it like a frisbee, prompting it to land and slide along Chang and Eng’s shoulders. 

“And it’s here right in front of you, this is where you wanna be.”

Lettie gripped the brim and extended her arm to P.T., singing her number. “This is where you wanna be!”

Phineas grinned at the bearded lady and happily took the hat. He sent a glimpse near Phillip Carlyle that shortly influenced him to jog over and bestow the headwear. “This is for you.”

Phillip looked bewildered and he mouthed the word, ‘What?’ 

“It’s a gift.” Phineas responded. “I can’t do this forever.”

_Where it's covered in all the colored lights._

“So where will you be?” Phillip questioned and acquired the hat. 

_Where the runaways are running the night._

Phineas snorted and shrugged his shoulders. “Watching my girls grow up.” He replied and loaned him the elegant staff. “And you, will be the Greatest Showman.”

_Impossible comes true, it's taking over you._

Phillip adjusted his hand on the cane’s polished surface and dashed away, entering the cluster of prancing horses and elephants. He slid across the dusty floor and hollered the six well known words. “Oh, this is the greatest show!”

I spun beside George Costentenus and looked back at my twin sister, noticing she was swaying alongside Khan. 

_Where it's covered in all the colored lights, where the runaways are running the night._

Mary returned the curious gesture and we locked eyes for a brief moment. When our dance partners swung us, we gazed at each other again and smiled in unison. The smiles of untainted happiness. We smiled because we were loved. We had a family. 

_Impossible comes true, it's taking over you. Oh, this is the greatest show._

 

_We light it up, we won't come down and the walls can't stop us now._

 

_I'm watching it come true, it's taking over you. Oh, this is the greatest show._

You know their story. You know Phineas Taylor Barnum’s story and what he lived by. You know how he rose up. However, you don’t know ours. 

You don’t know the life of the albino twins and how _we_ rose up. 

_Now you will._


	2. The Beginning

**‘WANTED! UNIQUE PERSONS AND CURIOSITIES**

**Male or Female • Young or Old**

**DARING ACTS—WONDERS AROUND THE WORLD’**

That’s what Florence Martin read on the torn lightweight paper. The letters were bold and delicately written and if she didn’t know any better, she’d say this was true. However, it couldn’t be. The paper was nailed to nearly every brick wall in New York City and especially around the bars. If someone wanted to promote a hammy play, they’d always go to the drunks first. 

The sensational magic of promoting. 

Florence’s blonde hair was drooped over her icy eyes and a brown hooded cape concealed her pale appearance. She tugged the hood down more, folded the paper up, and made way into the old city. From now on, this was home. The sisters were forced to gulp down unsanitary food and water and sleep in foul alleyways, expecting a nice enough folk to come along and rescue them. 

Home was an understatement. 

Minutes felt like hours as she silently strolled through the city. She sensed eyes locking on and heard the hateful whispers attack her feeble form. It was a tedious routine entering New York’s main plaza, but the city’s market was a struggle. Fish, crisp fruits and vegetables, and foreign herbs lined the dry shelves and filled wicker baskets.

Florence steadily lurked by the many fruit stands and attempted to linger unknown. Fortunately, this tactic worked and she snuck one McIntosh apple into her sewn coat pocket without grabbing the salesman’s attention. 

“Good gracious, they’re pickle minded.” Florence muttered and jogged towards a dim alleyway that stood contempt from the individual food stations. 

The smell was rotten; a combination of decomposing meat, waste, and death. Putrescent garbage enclosed the pebbled floor, foggy windows were smashed, and tiny corpses of deceased forest animals painted the dense area. Florence withdrew the apple and split it in half, deciding the larger piece would go to her sister. “Mary!” She called in to the gloom rectangular abyss. “Please tell me you’re alive or I’m going to peg this at you.”

There was only silence at first and then came the familiar noise. “Can you like, not?” A cracky voice echoed out and debris being shoved around followed soon after. “I thought you were a random person or whatever, and I hid in the trash.”

“You didn’t.” Florence groaned and trudged beyond the greasy scraps to see for herself. 

_She did._

“Why did you do that, Mary?” Florence snapped in negligible vexation. Mary was entirely veiled by blackened garbage and two spotless blankets, causing the twin to resemble actual municipality detritus. Her hair was knotted and stained, and dark circles girded her glossy eyes. The colorless dress she bore was hardly dirt-free anymore and her sheer stockings were ragged. “Now your dress is ruined! You cannot go through the city wearing only a robe.”

“It’s not ruined. I know a dress when it’s ruined.” Mary gave a content response, suddenly pausing at Florence’s soft scoff. “Hey! You do it too. You adore fashion and you look at those dresses in the antique shop a lot. What’s it called? Marilyn’s damsel shop?” She mused and shoved the residue off her frame. 

Florence raised a flaxen eyebrow and frowned. She soon gestured for Mary to come and sit next to her against the moss coated wall, and perched down. The unwashed Martin did so and grew comfortable on her sister’s shoulder. “Okay, one, the shop’s called Marilyn’s Spick and Span Arrays. You weren’t even close.”

Mary smirked and rolled her eyes at the comment. The folded tattered paper was removed and Florence gently flattened it. “Two, I admire those dresses because they are pretty. Someday we’ll have enough money and there won’t be an excuse for hiding anymore.”

Though, Mary seemed to lose all interest and was, instead, examining the creased paper on her sibling’s lap. She read each rich word aloud. “Wanted? Unique persons and curiosities. Male or female, young or old.. Daring acts and wonders around the world.” Her eyebrows furrowed. “What is this?”

“I, uhm.” Florence stammered and contemplated diverse solutions. Yet, she has never fibbed and it was almost impossible to lie to her doppelganger. “Well… Mary, like I said, we need money. I found this in the city and I have a feeling that it isn’t a joke. Unique persons and curiosities? That’s us! Sis, we were born differently. We’re albino but there’s nothing wrong with that. The Barnum Museum is a couple blocks away!”

“Your point?” Mary retorted.

“We should go. I don’t care if this occupation offers us minimum wage. As long as we can afford some decent food, that’s fine by me.” Florence explained and swung the sheet back and forth. “Better yet, there’s a new life right there! Right at our feet!”

“Yes, yes, absolutely. That sounds delightful, Florence. It really does. But can’t this wait? The sun will set soon.” Mary informed her about the time and nuzzled her sister’s arm lovingly. “ ‘M tired.. And dirty.”

Florence offered a small smile and lowered the paper, disappointed. The poached apple turned brown and modly a while ago and confirmed no use to their appetite. They’d retrieve nutrients in the morning and head to the Barnum Museum. It was a rich or poor type of deal. 

“Florence?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you mind singing that song you told me about? The one you heard at home?” Mary mumbled and embraced Florence’s abdomen, afraid to let go. “Remember?”

“How do you recall that? That was years ago, I’m not sure I know the words anymore.” She teased and watched her sister’s confident expression shift to a pout. Same callow twin. 

The song Mary spoke about was no ordinary melody. She concentrated on a married couple’s tune numerous years before and sang the inspiring lyrics to her sister every night. It happened to be one of those nights again. 

Florence inhaled the cool air and exhaled. The lines restored themselves and countless memories recurred. 

“Every night I lie in bed, the brightest colors fill my head. A million dreams are keeping me awake.”

_I think of what the world could be._

_The vision of the one I see._

_A million dreams is all it’s gonna take._

_A million dreams for the world we’re gonna make._


	3. The Nightmare

_They can say, they can say it all sounds crazy._

The Atlantic ocean’s waves violently splashed together, showering the sapphire waters with seafoam and stranded sand particles. Land laid thousands of miles away and society seemed to abandon the marine expanse itself. Fisherman only sailed out there to catch and retreat during sunrise, and ultimately left the saltwater alone. 

Except for one desperate prey. 

_They can say, they can say we’ve lost our minds._

Florence ascended from the arcane hydrous gorge and breathed in a large amount of needed air. She kicked her legs and frantically flailed her arms, gurgling and coughing the sodium and beach entrails up. Her throat burned and she could barely feel her skin anymore. The water was just too cold. 

“W-What.. What happened?” Florence choked and sputtered, clearly distressed. “Mary!”

_I don’t care, I don’t care if they call us crazy._

Mary did not state a reply. Alternatively, the waves did and hurled diverse brutal tides upon Florence’s figure, propelling her down again. Water infiltrated her mouth and nose, proffering a last resort: to float there and suffocate. 

_Runaway to a world that we design._

Bubbles mounted to the surface and before Florence faded away, she watched as one last wave plummeted over. 

Florence shot her eyes open and snapped forward; her heart beating at a serious rate. She felt New York City’s brisk breeze drift by and barely perceived the borough horses clopping and neighing from afar. Sweat and tears trickled off her chin and plopped to the floor. 

_What was that?_

_Why was I in the sea?_

_Is everything back to normal?_

“Florence?” Mary’s anxious assertion stirred her thoughts elsewhere. Hands lay atop her cloaked thigh– possibly shaking them earlier, and a harrow face gaped at the startled sister. “What’s a matter? You were moving an awful lot and I tried to wake you up.” 

“Wake me up? It was..” Florence huffed a reassured sigh. “A dream. I believed I was really underwater. It was so cold and so… real.”

“Underwater?” Mary replied— baffled, and cocked her head. She’d looked as exhausted as she was. “What water? Florence, we barely know what water is, except a refreshment. The ocean?”

“Yes.” Florence sat up and eased along the tacky wall. It stung, despite that there was no blood to be seen. “The ocean. The Atlantic! I sang myself to sleep and I found myself there. Drowning and screaming. I felt the water go into my mouth, sister, and I could not breathe. I think this dream might be foreshadowing our future.” 

“By drowning? How? We aren’t in grave desperation to leave New York.” She snorted and looked away. “Death is not the answer.”

“No. Still, that doesn’t mean these people don’t want us gone.” Remarked the twin. 

“So, you’re saying they’re going to kill us? That’s absurd.” Mary quered and then paused in mid thought. _Maybe they were._ “And if they try to? What do we do?”

Florence shifted and reached down, surveying the hard gravel ground for the Barnum Museum flyer. After finding and clutching the slim paper, she held it open for Mary to see. 

“Never too late to join Barnum’s auditions.”


	4. The Museum

**‘WANTED! UNIQUE PERSONS AND CURIOSITIES**

**Male or Female • Young or Old**

**DARING ACTS—WONDERS AROUND THE WORLD’**

That’s what Florence Martin once read on the torn Barnum Museum flyer. The letters were bold and delicately written and if she knew any better, she wouldn’t have gone. ‘ _Nobody will go_ ,’ they said. ‘ _It’s a trick_ ,’ they said. It was no trick and more than a dozen city people arrived. Similar to what the paper stated: “ _Unique persons and curiosities_ ,” enough idiosyncratic men and women bordered the large museum. 

The Barnum Museum was enormous and gorgeous, thoroughly painted with many bronze and chestnut shades. The golden crystalline letters were fastened above the glistening windows and exhibited the name, ‘ _Barnum’s American Museum of Curiosity_.’ 

Florence and Mary were amazed and stood still, shocked, and draped in their brown cloaks. Whoever owned the historical vault needed to be rich or close to it, anyway. Mr. Barnum, was it?

Mary yanked her hood down with her right hand to avoid the cold and the crowd’s view and gripped her sister’s arm with the other. It was true that if this Barnum accepted them, they’d have a fresh new start in life; but right then, poverty continued in the Martin genealogy. 

“So what do you think?” Mary leaned towards Florence and whispered. “Do we just go in and see what he says?”

Florence shrugged and squeezed her hand heartedly. “I don’t know. As far as I see it, more people like us are checking it out. It is remarkable.” She observed the strange and bizarre human beings access the divine structure, from an atypical 8’2” tall man to two male Chinese twins linked together. “Extraordinary.”

“ _Extraordinary_.”

That’s what Florence Martin heard Phineas Taylor Barnum say to her face. He was a bold and delicately shaped man and if she knew any better, she wouldn’t have mentally dubbed him handsome. Mr. Barnum was no trickster, for sure, and he acted somewhat respectful to those who approached him.

“Unambiguously extraordinary.”

Florence endured her impatience and gazed at the lengthier man, waiting for the iconic ‘Yes or no’ answer. Mary paced outside and now oblivious to the bitter temperatures, she prayed alone that she and her sister would be given a warm, comfortable room and nourishing treats. Whether it be just apples and oranges, they did not care. 

“I have to ask, does your family have a history of albinism?” Barnum asked and held a multiplexed clipboard and a pencil prepared to scribble down whatever the girl said. He was fascinated. 

“No.” Florence plainly claimed. “My father was a businessman and my mother redeemed no job. Neither are albino. I and my sister were the first born like this.”

“Florence, could I ask your sister’s name?” He scrawled a scarce quantity along the notepaper. 

“Mary.” Florence replied and directed a brief glance to the recherche visitors. She distinguished a fraught bearded lady, a crudely dressed midget, a voodoo fashioned pair, and a stubbly male— his face masked with multiple polychromatic tattoos. “Barnum, allow me to ask you something now.”

Barnum looked up and Florence considered that a signal to proceed. “This is no witticism gag, is it? When I discovered your papers, I theorized that you wanted everybody to be some modest laughing stock. A disgrace to mankind. You’d humiliate and shame us. Mary cannot bear tough audiences and I will risk anything for her. She entails safety.”

“Of course!” Barnum’s eyes brightened and he beamed. “There are enough private rooms and open capacities left in my show. Those folks out there? Whom endlessly judged you? They don’t understand… But they will.”

_Will they?_

Florence did not wish to believe such excruciating words. Nevertheless, she derived the choice to stay and viewed the clipboard Phineas currently documented notes on. The albino lass seized a view of what he was writing and smiled. 

_1\. Charles Sherwood Stratton_

_2\. Lettie Lutz_

_3\. Novanna and Odessa Elks_

_4\. Anne and W.D. Wheeler_

_5\. George Costentenus_

_6\. Francesco Lentini_

_7\. Florence and Mary Martin_


	5. The Room

Mary cynically prodded at the bed’s checkered sheets and frowned. “This is what they think we’re going to sleep on? It’s so stiff. Maybe there’s a trap!”

Florence snickered and ridiculed her sister’s foolish speculation. Developing an argument was the last thing she wanted to do. She stood weary and gelid, craving the most pleasant rest and wrenched the covers away to see the ancient mattress. 

The cot was unpigmented, dense, and exceptionally undersized– well-nigh the size of a foal’s miniature stable. Mary was right. How were the two meant to nap on that when cockroaches conceivably wriggled around? 

“It’s no trap. I don’t think so.” Florence exhaled. “I swear if they assigned us the wrong room.”

_Room 8_ wasn’t constructed to sustain company and it positioned unembellished on the exterior and the interior. P.T. Barnum handled them with kindness, but he mayhap grew agitated by Florence’s curt attitude and issued the devilry twins, Novanna and Odessa, the wider chamber. 

_Fantastic._

“Then what do we do?” Mary asked brusquely. “Can’t you go ask them?”

“Who else is there to ask, Mary?” Florence growled and unbuttoned her cloak. “I am not going up to Mr. Barnum again. I think I angered him..”

“ _What_?” Mary repressed the gasp that coursed inside her lungs, freeing the thick plaid wool layers onto the wooden floor. There went their momentous chance to earn a buck. 

“My pique rose, okay? I was seriously annoyed by his daft questions and knowing that your pitiful traits were conveyed to mine, I looked like a walking siren!” Florence barked. “Soaking in sweat is _totally_ the way to introduce yourself.”

“Did you speak with anyone else? You weren’t mean, right?” Mary needed the proper reply and once Florence shook her head, she sighed heavily. “Who was it?”

“Lettie Lutz and Hugh Murphy.”

Now, Lettie Lutz was an affectionate and altruistic lady, and behaved sweeter than she resembled to be. She had dusky brown frizzy hair, and a lengthy beard tinted the selfsame tone, umber eyes, and wore a pearly white maiden dress. Hugh, on the other hand, was a tower; marginally monotonous and produced a profound solid accent. He had a meager portion of hair, dismal sapphire eyes, and sported a sage vest, pinstripe pants, and a daffodil button up shirt. 

They both notified Florence that whoever stood in her way, she’d have to choose the fight wisely. ‘ _Stop being afraid of what people will think. Be excited for what the people will love._ ’ 

“Stop being afraid of what people will think. Be excited for what the people will love.” She recited and detected the wonder in Mary’s gaze. “Lettie and Hugh gave me plenty advice. They’re executing the job like it is a legendary piece of art. It was intriguing.”

Mary flashed a merry smile. “If so, you have to give me a chance to meet them too! Don’t slam your sis out yet.”

_She’d never._

Florence sneered and tunneled through the tartan blankets, coveting heat. The silken base barely reserved any extent for her sibling, but they have slept tautly together before. The technique was not contemporary to them. 

Mary mimicked her actions and nestled against Florence’s torso. She jerked three or four times in an endeavor to lie snug until Florence openly stroked her chalky hair and faintly breathed. “Stop moving. I want you to sleep good tonight and dream perfect dreams. There are a million dreams yearning your arrival. Don’t dispirit the wishes. Okay?” 

“Okay.” Mary’s muffled voice generated a yawn. “ _I love you_ , Florence.”

“I… Goodnight, Mary.”


End file.
